


It's Been A Long, Long Time

by Apriel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Captain America Sam Wilson, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Natasha Romanov Lives, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers is An Old Man, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 14:37:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19477948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apriel/pseuds/Apriel
Summary: It's Steve's birthday and despite things being very different now, three things have stayed exactly the way he needs them to: his city, his love of Thai food, and two of the most important people to him in the whole universe~





	It's Been A Long, Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> *sighs* ok so i thought i'd have a go at working with what endgame gave us (i have a lot of feelings on steve's ending but lets save that for tumblr lol) so steve comes back an old man & has handed the shield over to sam. everything else is as canon except for natasha dying bc fuck that ♡

Perhaps it’s a morbid tradition when celebrating something as joyful as a birthday, but Steve has been coming to his parents’ grave every year since he was brought into the twenty-first century. 

He comes on their birthdays and on the anniversaries of their deaths, and on holidays, and of course on his own birthday, too. They would have wanted to celebrate with him, after all, and turning one-hundred and six is quite a big deal.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

He is silent for a minute, before speaking again.

“Truly,” he reiterates, turning to look at the man beside him.

“Me?” Sam wonders, not realising that the thank you had been aimed at him.

“Yes... thank you for always bringing me here,” Steve smiles, giving his hand an appreciative squeeze.

“Hey, of course,” the patient avenger assures.

The year they met had been a turbulent one for Steve, and come the anniversary of his mother’s death he had asked Sam in a moment of vulnerability if he would accompany him.

Sam has been to every visit, every year since. 

Though, despite having never had to make the journey here alone, Sam knows Steve probably couldn’t anymore...

The retired super-soldier knows where he is when he wakes up most mornings. At home he’s very cogent; very secure and good company.

Outside it can be a little difficult though. He knows his neighbourhood—god forbid he ever leave Brooklyn—and the people here know him too so they are always kind and helpful.

But a train ride or walking a couple blocks too far might shake him a bit. He gets disoriented, or can’t quite decide on a plan of action when he needs to cross the street or enter a building.

It’s been gradual, and they don’t talk about it much. Steve knows he forgets things. He’s scared like anyone would be. So the best thing for it is to take their own quiet measures to ensure he is achieving whatever little goals he sets out to accomplish with as little help as possible. 

The pair stay a little longer. Sam watches Steve shed a silent tear as they keep holding hands, and he swallows a brief lump in his throat and a quiver of his lip when he wonders how many more times they’ll come here and Steve will still remember why. 

It’s a perfect summer’s day. There’s a warm and gentle breeze blowing and the faint smell of charcoal carried on it from the neighbourhood barbecues.

So absorbed in making Steve’s birthday memorable, Sam often forgets it’s actually a national holiday they’re celebrating too.

He’s never really gotten over the fact that America’s ass was born on the Fourth of July. It’s just _too_ ironic.

“What?” Steve asks, a wry smile hitching up the corner of his mouth when he catches Sam chuckling quietly to himself.

“Nothin’,” Sam says, patting Steve on the back. 

“Well, I think I’m ready to go now,” the old avenger informs.

Sam pauses, noticing that Steve hasn’t laid down his flowers yet, and so he points to them hoping he’ll remember on his own.

“Oh!” Steve chirps, “yes.”

“Here, let me,” Sam interjects when he sees Steve about to try and take a knee. “Don’t want’chu gettin’ your Sunday bests dirty today.”

Steve chuckles, willingly handing over the two white lilies to his friend and allowing him to do the honours.

He watches, hands clasped in front of him as he bows his head and takes another moment. Sam joins him, then accepts Steve’s little nod afterwards as signifying that he is ready. 

Much of their exchanges are wordless; understood with eye contact and simple physical gestures, but once they leave the cemetery and step out into the city Steve visibly loosens up.

“So, birthday boy... where to?” Sam smiles, offering him his arm to hold onto. “Wanna’ go get your cake?”

“Yes... from Giacomo’s,” Steve says assuredly.

Sam tries not to let on. Even though it’s small and an easy thing to forget, the fact that he _did_ forget is painful. Steve had grieved for quite some time when he’d heard the news about that place. 

He had told Sam more than once the story of how he would tease Bucky for never telling him he secretly owned a bakery, every time making sure that Sam understood that Bucky’s first name is James and that Giacomo is the Italian equivalent. 

“Ah... big guy it... it's not there any more. Closed down a couple years back...” Sam regrettably apprises.

Steve frowns a little, masking his confusion quickly with a knowing nod.

“That’s right,” he pretends to recall. “Caputo’s then.”

“Alright, Caputo’s it is,” Sam smiles as they reach the car. 

They sit in to eat lunch, chatting idly and reminiscing. Despite forgetting little day to day things, Steve remembers their times together as clear as anything; like each one only happened yesterday. 

He remembers it all, and Sam thinks he has heard nearly all of his stories but one. 

Steve keeps his life with Peggy close to his heart, but Sam stopped wanting to hear it a long time ago. 

Some things can’t be summed up so briefly, and some things don’t need to be shared. That was Steve’s personal adventure; the only one that he couldn’t have either him or Bucky accompany him on, and Sam respects that Steve needed it for himself. 

“You know something, Sam?” Steve speaks up as he’s sipping his egg cream.

“What’s that, big guy?” Sam replies, mopping up yolk with the last of his French toast. 

“...I’m happy to be home.”

Sam pauses and glances up at the man opposite him. He’s staring off into the distance, still sipping at the frothy head on the tall glass. 

“Oh, my cake,” he cheerily diverts, noticing the guy at the register wave and set a box on top of the counter. 

Sam shakes his head, smiling and swallowing his last bite. He gets the hint. Steve said what he said and it means what it means, nothing more. 

“Oh no, let me,” Steve insists as he catches Sam about to get up and pay.

“Hey, don’t be silly. It’s your birthday I’m not lettin’ you pay for that.”

Steve acquiesces. “Next time, then.”

“Oh next time,” Sam smirks, looking back over his shoulder. “I’ll pick somewhere expensive; spend some of that big ol’ pension of yours.”

The super soldier chuckles, shaking his head and then lifting his gaze in that old way of his that Sam has never quite been able to discern from not being entirely unromantic. 

He helps Steve put his jacket back on then as they walk to the car, cake box in hand.

The sun is at its highest point now and the light hits Steve’s apartment pretty full on, so Sam opens the windows and lowers the blinds a little once they’re inside. 

Steve huffs as he’s shuffling to the kitchen, a little fatigued now that he is out of the bustling city and hit with the peacefulness of home.

“Hey, you good?” Sam soothes, catching him short on breath. “Time for a lie down maybe?” he suggests, supporting Steve as he reaches for a hand to steady himself with. 

“Yeah... yeah I could use a nap maybe,” he agrees.

Steve doesn’t take long to drift off. He gets himself comfortable in his pyjamas first as Sam sets him down a glass of water and opens the window just a tad to let a breeze in.

The sounds of the city have always been soothing to Steve, especially drifting in through an apartment window with the summer air making the curtains sway.

“Want me to wake you up later?” Sam asks as he finishes tucking Steve in.

The retired avenger shakes his head with a smile, giving Sam’s hand a gentle pat.

“Not today,” he rasps. “As a birthday treat to myself I think I’ll... just sleep for a little while.”

“Alright, big guy. Lemme’ know if you need anything.”

Steve nods, and Sam lets him rest then. 

There are a few dishes that need tidying away and plants that need watering, but it doesn’t take long for Sam to do those jobs, so he sits and reads for a little while in the open, airy space.

A knock at the door brings him back to this plane of existence not long after, and he glances at the old grandfather clock that tells him a few hours have passed.

He gets up to answer it on Steve’s behalf. It’s likely a neighbour come to wish him a happy birthday, or even someone a little more familiar...

“Hey, don’t you guys know how to collect your mail?” Nat smirks as she hands Sam a wad of cards she’d gathered out of the overstuffed mailbox in the lobby. 

“Hey,” Sam chuckles in greeting, standing aside to invite her in.

“I take it I came during nap time,” she presumes, setting her gift down on the dining table.

“Yeah he’s been out for a while now; told me not to wake him up so I’m just gunna’ let ‘im sleep.”

“Well, he’s finally acting his age now I guess,” Nat winks.

“So what’s up, you stayin’ for dinner?”

“Yeah, I might as well. No point leaving until I’ve at least said happy birthday,” she decides, taking her jacket off and hanging it over the chair. “What are we having? I could go get Thai?”

“Nah, nah we’ll order in. But I’m sure he’ll be in the mood for Thai,” Sam agrees.

Nat goes over to sift through the cards on the table then, seeing stamps from all over.

“Hm, this one’s from Wakanda,” she muses.

“Must be from Bucky.”

“Tønsberg...”

“Thor,” Sam replies.

“Oh this is Hope’s handwriting,” Nat recognises. “Wow, mister popular,” she snickers as she lays them and several others out for him to open later. 

“Yeah... yeah he is,” Sam smiles to himself, thinking fondly of all their friends in far off places.

“Hey, have you given anymore thought to you guys moving together?” Nat then asks, leaning against the back of the couch as she reads over Sam’s shoulder.

“I mean, c’mon, we practically do. I come here in the mornings and most evenings as it is,” Sam defends.

“No I know... but I just wonder if maybe it’d be easier for you two to... y’know, shack up together...”

Sam snorts, amused by the insinuation. 

“I dunno’ though,” he considers. “I think right now Steve just needs a little independence. I don’t think he’s ready to live with someone again yet...”

“Y’know, Sharon Carter owns that house now,” Nat points out. “If Steve wanted to move back there I’m sure she’d be happy to let him... with you.”

“I definitely don’t know about that, Nat... the whole reason Steve moved back to Brooklyn was ‘cuz it was too painful to be in that house.”

Nat is quietly calculating. She can see that Sam’s considered all this before. They all just want what’s best for Steve, after all. His comfort is paramount. 

“So what are you thinking?” she investigates, taking a seat beside him now and propping her head against a closed fist inquisitively.

Sam sighs and puts his book down, rubbing his forehead thoughtfully.

“I mean, I did wonder if my place in the suburbs might be nicer for him... get him away from the noise but... he’s comfortable here, y’know? It’s familiar... uprooting him now I... I dunno’...”

Nat nods to let him know she’s listening.

“Then I thought about maybe suggesting selling both mine and his place and buying up somewhere in the country... but he loves the city an’... sometimes I feel like I jus’ don’t know what’s best for him...”

Nat reaches out then to gently hold his wrist and rub the back of his hand with her thumb.

“We can’t always... but I think it’s something you should talk about to him.”

“What about you?” Sam asks. “If we moved, I mean. Would you come?”

The Black Widow smiles, “sure, maybe,” she nods. “We could b—” 

She’s interrupted by the sounds of discomfort from the bedroom, both her and Sam snapping their gaze in that direction as Steve begins to cry out in his sleep.

“I’ll go,” she assures. 

Sam nods and goes straight to the kitchen to find an inhaler just in case. 

“Hey, hey!” Nat soothes as she sees Steve struggling in his sheets and immediately goes to free him.

He wakes when she touches him, but he’s startled and disoriented.

“Shhh-sh-sh-sh, it’s okay, Steve. You’re okay, honey. I’m here.”

“Peg?” Steve whimpers, blinking away tears to try and see her clearly. “Peggy?” he cries, cupping her face hoping to feel her instead.

Natasha smiles softly when she sees Steve become aware again, tears no longer blinding him as they flow down his cheeks.

“No, sweetheart,” she says apologetically, holding one of his weathered hands to her face and rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “It’s Nat.”

Steve forces a smile. It’s not fake, but it is jeopardised by the flicker of fear in his eyes to find that he forgot again.

He knows Nat will chalk it up to just being confused by his nightmare, but the truth is he really did think she was Peggy.

“Nat,” he nods, gently patting her cheek. “Of course you’re Nat.”

“Hey, he okay?” Sam asks as he returns from the kitchen, “you need this?” he offers, holding up the inhaler. 

Steve shakes his head, relieved to recognise Sam right away. He can always recognise his wing man. 

“Ah, wait,” Steve objects as Nat is about to lift his legs back onto the bed for him. “Please I... I don’t want to go back to sleep...”

He looks between the pair anxiously, hoping they’re not going to insist. He doesn’t want to have to admit that he’s scared he won’t wake up next time. 

“Alright, since it’s technically still your birthday,” Sam winks.

“Oof, you’re safe by six hours,” Nat smirks, giving Steve’s arm a comforting rub.

Steve immediately relaxes, able to smile and breathe easy now that he is surrounded by his friends and not the dregs of a nightmare. 

“What’chu wanna’ do, anyway, birthday boy?” Sam asks with a smirk.

“Anything!” Steve grins.

“You wanna’ watch a movie?” Nat suggests, gently holding an ankle as she’s putting his slippers on for him. 

“Yeah,” the old soldier nods, accepting a hand in getting up and carefully slipping his arms into his dressing gown as Sam holds it up for him.

“What are we watching then, big guy?” Nat persists, guiding him through to the living room. 

He holds onto her arm tightly, wincing a little as his knees ache from lying down so long.

“Uhm... not sure,” he huffs, declining Nat’s help this time when she silently offers to ease him down onto the couch before he hitches up his pyjamas pant legs and manages it himself.

“Gunna’ make some popcorn, you havin’ some?” Sam calls over from the kitchen.

“It’s my popcorn id’nit?” Steve sasses, a boyish smirk tugging at his tired features.

Nat gives that half-smile of hers when she’s trying not to smile at all, noting the twinkle in Steve’s eye that still ignites from time to time.

“Hey, listen old man, you might be a super soldier but I’m the new Captain America, so you better watch ya’ mouth,” Sam warns, shaking the bag of popcorn at him. “Whippersnapper,” he despairs.

Steve laughs at that, his cheeks taking colour and his eyes sparkling with sincere joy.

Nat notices all the things about Steve that make him Steve, and there’s nothing more comforting than seeing he’s still in there. 

No one brings him out like Sam does. 

They end up spending the rest of Steve’s birthday evening on the couch watching old movies and eating Thai food. 

For an old man, Steve’s super serum-driven appetite hasn’t diminished in the slightest, but it’s kind of nice to see.

“You gettin’ tired, big guy?” Sam enquires once they’re down two slices of birthday cake each and the sky outside is starting to turn navy blue.

“One more,” Steve rasps, “one more movie... I wanna’ enjoy my birthday... every minute.”

Nat smiles and tucks the throw around them both, which tells Sam he’s the one who has to get up and put the disk in. 

Steve gets last choice, and he settles on Singin’ in the Rain. 

In the 50s Steve was still in the ice, so that era offers him a healthy dose of nostalgia without it completely catapulting him into grief. 

As always he sits snug between his friends, sings along to every score, and tells them how he can dance just like Gene Kelly.

Sam and Nat both know better, but they humour him anyway. 

Steve has never been able to dance, and by the time he finally learned he was too old to show them anymore. But maybe Peggy was a real mover, and maybe Steve did learn to dance just like the greats. It was, after all, another life.

He starts to drift again before the movie is finished, but it’s late now and the celebratory fireworks will be starting soon.

The two share a smile as Steve’s head starts to loll toward Sam’s shoulder and his mouth hangs slack as he snores softly. 

“Shall we take him?” Nat asks. 

Sam nods and carefully manoeuvres himself to keep Steve’s head supported while also safely gathering him in his arms. 

He’s light now. Sam is a little stronger than he used to be, mind, but it’s definitely not like hauling the super-soldier onto a deck after a big breakfast. 

They head up to the roof of the apartment, and Sam gently rouses Steve once they’re outside, carefully setting him down as Nat takes his other side and they support him together.

“You ready for one more birthday treat, big guy?” Sam smiles. 

Steve rubs his eyes, coming round and taking a moment to work out where they are, but his attention is captured when the first distant spatters of sparkles dash the horizon where the last trace of sunlight tinges the dark sky pink. 

The sun sets fully, and fireworks begin to appear all across the cityscape.

Steve gasps softly, in awe of the sight, and his old hands take up the two beside him and squeeze them gratefully as his eyes glisten.

“It’s all for you, Steve,” Nat whispers, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“You’re their hero,” Sam says. “And ours.”

**Author's Note:**

> [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87oXtr8r18g)


End file.
